Ghost Trick Phantom Drabbles
by SiverWrites
Summary: Collecting any drabbles I write into one place. Currently Cabanela-centric but that will change over time I imagine. Timeline is all over, pre-game, post-game, events alongside game etc.
1. Yet

Cabanela woke up slowly in an unfamiliar room. White walls. White blanket. Not home. Not the junkyard office. Uncomfortable bandaging, dull ache everywhere ... hospital.

"Finally awake, are you?"

Cabanela turned his head and saw the professor perched on a chair at his bedside.

The night's events crashed in on him. He opened his mouth to ask the only question on his mind, but the professor must have seen it written all over his face because he was already shaking his head.

"No news of them."

Yet, Cabanela mentally added and would keep adding until conclusive evidence told him otherwise.


	2. Dance Challenges

Step one two dip. A twirl and a bow. He stepped back to allow his other pupil to take over.

Step, bit heavy footed, keep going, three, four, a wince from her. Step twirl … he glided in to correct course. Disaster averted.

And again … Loosen up, watch the feet, maaan. Good dodge from Alma. She could spare her feet at least, but not his eyes.

"I think a diiifferent dance might be better, baby. I have some ideas."

This was going to be a challenge, but he would see them through and spare as many toes as he possibly could.


	3. Certainty

Cabanela relied on his certainties. It was certainty that carried him through five years with the knowledge that he was right despite all evidence claiming otherwise. It was what carried him through the longest night of his life.

He clung to the hope that there was still time. They hadn't returned yet; that was all. The deepening pit in his stomach told him a different story. The problem with certainty was it could go both ways and this certainty cut him deeper than any wound.

Four graves, three unfilled. He knelt in front of them, coat trailing in the mud.


	4. His Armour

It happened both instantly and impossibly slowly. Their suspect had his gun pointed at Jowd. There was a blur of white, a loud bang and Cabanela crumpled in front of him.

Another shot and the shooter went down gripping his shoulder.

"Call an ambulance!" Jowd roared to the other officer before kneeling to check on Cabanela.

"What were you thinking jumping in the way like that?"

"Just your kniiight in shining armour." He tried to grin, but it twisted into a grimace.

Jowd gripped his coat. "Your 'armour' doesn't do much for protecting you."

"Never said it was mine, baby."


	5. Pocket Watch

He browsed, not entirely sure what he was after. He needed something innocuous, but large enough to contain the necessary machinery.

When he found it he nearly laughed out loud. It was perfect. It wasn't exactly _his_ style, but then the man didn't have a stylish bone in his body. Besides, unless he had changed utterly, he knew he would appreciate the irony and with any luck get the message through that thick skull of his. And, once he succeeded, what better way to celebrate a newly won time?

"Excuuuse me, can I take a look at that pocket watch?"


	6. To the Joys of a New Drabble!

The wine flows freely from bottle to glass. Fingers dance across the keys weaving a tale of stolen glances, deep secrets and scandals. The night is young. It is a special night, one of the holiest of all nights. A sip is taken. The page is frowned upon and a book consulted. Only the best words are suitable for a tale such as this and they are lovingly chosen. The plot thickens. Questions are answered revealing yet more questions.

Eyes meet in a heated gaze. A kiss is stolen.

The glass is raised.

To the lovelorn woes of a detective!


	7. Never Again

"And that's what happened," Jowd finishes. What a simple statement to conclude the complicated mess of his life.

"Quiiite the tale," Cabanela replies. His look is distant. Before Jowd can think of what to say (what can possibly be said now?) or react Cabanela has his arms wrapped tightly around him in a hug of three parts: one part fierce, one part angry (he could see it in the brief view of that set jaw), one part… dare he say fear?

He returns the hug awkwardly. It lasts longer than he thinks is strictly necessary. It's welcome all the same.


	8. Lost

The professor wondered if any two words were as painful as those Cabanela just uttered.

"They're gone."

The pair stood on the pier staring out over the ocean. Cabanela stood rigid beside him. His knuckles went white around his crutches. His mouth tightened into a thin line, eyes dropped shut and brow furrowed.

Rigid, unyielding, unbreakable for five long years to and past a bitter end. One long thread weaving them together and holding him firm and that thread snapped.

The crutch wobbled. The professor, already on high alert, caught hold of it and steadied his friend.

The Inspector broke.


	9. Recovering Challenges

A clatter, muffled cursing and a thump has the professor immediately on his feet.

As suspected Cabanela is lying on the floor in a heap of limbs and crutches, his face a twisted mask of pain and fury.

For both their sakes the professor will be glad when he is recovered. He knows Cabanela is growing increasingly frustrated with his limited range of movement and his constant overreaching is starting to drive the professor around the bend.

On the other hand, he thinks while helping him to his feet, at least it's a distraction from the deeper pain of loss.


	10. New Introductions

He wasn't exactly sure what made him decide to do it, but after everything, memories or no, to keep him separate no longer felt right. He was as much a part of the family as anyone.

Jowd smiled as he led Kamila through the junkyard. He could already see the gears turning in her head as she stared wide eyed at the surrounding mess.

The meeting itself was awkward and shy until Kamila spotted his microscope and other tools. Jowd idly wondered if his absence would be noticed as the professor and Kamila grew lost in conversations beyond his understanding.


	11. Wasn't Part of the Plan

It should have been simple, Jowd thinks. He has his memories; the road is clear, with only the need for caution lest he accidentally jumps ahead. Simple. Instead he feels caught in a battle of secrets, of mutual suspicion for different reasons.

He knows Cabanela suspects something of him. He also knows Cabanela hasn't been quite himself – tired, irritable. He fears what may torment him. It's not according to schedule and try as he does to compensate Jowd isn't fooled.

 _A for effort old friend._ A wry smile crosses his features. _But, I've known you longer than you've known yourself._


	12. Goodbyes

"This isn't goodbye."

Cabanela's voice was harsher than Jowd was used to and it was enough to cause Jowd to pause mid-rise. He met a look that could have seared through the glass if such a thing were possible.

But no, old friend, not this time.

"Goodbye," Jowd said and turned away from the look of mixed fury and hurt before his resolve wavered.

Jowd opened his eyes in darkness and wondered why the distant memory decided to plague him now. 'This isn't goodbye.' It seemed Cabanela finally went against his word. Five years of silence.

Suited him just fine.


	13. She'll Get Them in the End

"I'm not blind." Alma rested her chin on the back of her hands. "I can see the way you look at him." She sighed through her nose at Jowd's perplexed face. Hopeless, utterly hopeless. "And I see the way he looks at you. He doesn't have your advantages." No beard to hide behind certainly. Jowd still looked confused and she reached out to poke his nose. "It's fine."

"I don't…"

Alma stood up and strolled over to the steaming kettle. She filled two cups and her hand lingered over a third. She looked back with a smile. "I can share."


	14. Distortions

Cabanela rested his head on one hand and stared at the distorted table through the amber liquid. It seemed a somehow fitting image of his current life's state. He didn't know why he ordered the drink. He avoided drinking now – didn't dare risk a slip up.

He took a sip from his half empty glass of water. It was habit, that's what it was, he thought as his gaze drifted to the empty seat across from him. It had been a bad day and this was the place to unwind. Their place.

Next time he would come with better company.


	15. New Life

_"You're freezing. I thought I got you back. I never did… Yomiel, I'm coming for you."_

 _Death and coldness. Eternal cold._

Yomiel's eyes flew open. It was dark, but there was warmth all around him. His hand flew to his chest and he breathed out. Heartbeat. He had a heartbeat. He sighed. He thought he had come to terms with it all, but ever since he got out of prison, got his life back, the nightmares returned.

His hand trailed along the mattress, seeking until he closed over her hand. Warmth. He could feel her wonderful living warmth. His Sissel.


	16. Rude Awakening

The phone sounded shrill in the darkness. Jowd groaned and reached blindly for it at a muffled order from Alma. One day he would let a caller suffer her wrath.

"Hello?"

"Jowd, I've got it! Meet me at the station. We can sooolve this, baby."

"Cabanela… It's 4am…"

"'m gonna kill him," Alma muttered indistinctly into her pillow.

"Early bird caaatches the case!" Cabanela said brightly. Jowd sat with vague thoughts of taking Alma up on her offer.

"You're buying the coffee," Jowd yawned while Cabanela would be bright-eyed, bushy tailed and impossible, he thought. Did the man ever sleep?


	17. Beyond Repair

Brooding and Cabanela didn't mix, the professor thought, yet here he was doing just that, sitting up in the hospital bed, gaze fixed on the small TV as the news came out in a low drone.

Maybe this would do some small piece of good. The professor passed him his coat.

"It's cleaned. It needs some patching, but I can probably manage something by the time you're out."

Cabanela ran a finger across the coat. He held his hand in place for a moment looking distant then pulled away with a shake of his head.

"Some things can't be fixed."


	18. Let Them Sleep

Alma's arm shot out blocking Jowd and she raised a finger to her lips quieting Lynne. She nodded toward the couch.

"And here I was expecting another cupcake incident," she whispered.

Sissel sat on the back of the couch his tail hanging like a fishing line over Cabanela who lay in a sprawl, but managed to still leave room for Kamila, who was curled up on the opposite end of the couch around Missile, a book sitting open near her hand.

"Maybe I should just leave Missile here." Lynne whispered.

"Well, that's one way to get them down," Jowd added.


	19. Unncessary Concerns

Jowd harboured some concerns about introducing Alma to Cabanela. Cabanela was after all, well, Cabanela, defying all description. As he wandered back into the living room balancing a bowl of popcorn and glasses he wondered why he was ever worried. Cabanela leaned against the couch in a sprawl on the floor looking back at Alma with a broad grin. Any impression of demure was lost as Alma shook with laughter.

No, maybe it was what he got himself into that he should be worried about, he thought as he took a seat beside Alma, unable to hide a contented smile.


	20. Timely Certainties

He's in a huff. He's all smiles and confidence and anger bubbling just below the surface.

Jowd can't help a low chuckle that earns him a sharp glare. That's fair. He's earned worse, but how can he not be amused knowing what's coming? This is nothing compared to the case a future that no longer exists once brought him. Neither is the anger, not quite yet honed into the fine razor sharp point Jowd once knew. Maybe it never will be now that its best target knows better.

He only has to wait for the shiny revelation that will come any day and another solved case under the detective's belt.

In the meantime he claps a reassuring hand to Cabanela's shoulder and assures him with all the certainty knowledge brings that they'll get them next time.


	21. Maybe He Should Take Up Juggling

It's quite a conundrum. If there is one thing to be said about a jail cell it is the ease of distance.

He can't have that and he doesn't want it. Not anymore. He can't help but laugh. Now he wants to hold them close when it is still dangerous, when there is too much risk of painful secrets slipping. They don't need that pain. They don't deserve it.

A difficult task indeed. It is after all a delicate balancing act where a loving wife, overly nosy friend and confusingly devoted teenager are concerned.

Juggling chickens would be an easier task than juggling secrets out of their reach.


	22. Dawning Horrors

Cabanela fell into his chair as the rest of the pieces fell into place. Jowd's determination. The remnants of a mysterious contraption. A manipulator.

He'd wondered, hadn't he? Who would Jowd protect and throw everything away for? He'd been so damn close, but he'd been blind. After all she couldn't have. And yet… Dear gods the poor girl.

Disgust and fury coiled around his sympathy. Somebody used her, forced her involvement in her own mother's death.

"All for Kamila and you couldn't say a word, could you?" he murmured.

He only needed proof. One final step to end this nightmare.


	23. Who Could Have Known?

Alma stifled a yawn, as she slowly started to succumb to Jowd's arms around her. Message received. Cabanela extricated himself from his sprawl across the remaining space and hopped to his feet.

"Beeest let you rest for your big day!" He graced the pair with a bow and jaunty wave before twirling away. "Have a looovely birthday. I'll be back soon to spoil you properly, baby!"

Cheerful, flippant seeming yet entirely sincere and nowhere near enough. After all, as he strolled down their small lawn, humming faintly to himself, how was he to know this would be their last night?


	24. Cabanela's Last Stand

He aches and it's not only the hurt of too many injuries he has no energy to contemplate. It's the pain of the flat words that left his mouth full of ash. It's the knowledge that he's almost at the end of his line. His failures throb through his bones.

Yomiel's words ring bitter and harsh. There's too much pain there too.

His path is at an end, but the road goes on. The lamp slamming into his hand seems almost inconsequential. Pass on the torch. It was all about him anyway.

Everything fades in the barrel of a gun.


	25. Scales

"Not a care in the world, that one."

The trick, see, the real trick, Cabanela knew, lay in the balancing act. A simple play when your scale was a singular truth.

As he flipped his umbrella onto its hook and slid off his scarf, draping it over his chair, his eyes fell on the accursed paper left for him that morning. The rain pattering against his office window was no longer the light dance he'd enjoyed, but a dull leaden sound.

He'd never felt so heavy.

The truth was his scale. The truth was his counterweight. They would rise above.


	26. One Way To Get Them Done

Kamila was tucked into bed and it was as Jowd approached the kitchen that some hint of the scene within reached him in the form of Alma's laugh and Cabanela's singing. He leaned against the wall to take in the sight.

The dishes were being done; there was no arguing that. It was just that he wasn't used to seeing them done in such a way, as the pair danced around each other, matching beat for beat and step for step in perfect synch. A ridiculous wonderful sight.

No fear of broken crockery either. Pride and dignity are powerful forces.


	27. Race

Cabanela was running, but it wasn't running away, no. No, they each had their parts in a case and that particular role fell to Him and as with every part he played his role masterfully. Leave that nonsense to him. Cabanela ran for the end.

Slow and steady wins the race, but that had been his pace for five years and now the finish line hung over them, an impending doom.

 _He_ could run away. _He_ could hide. But this was a sprint now and if there was one thing Cabanela was certain of it was winning. So he ran.


	28. Nearly Spotless

His coat gleamed in the moonlight. Jowd told Sissel it was a symbol and indeed it seemed to do its utmost to live up to the image. Spotless indeed.

Nearly. They shared one stain, Cabanela and himself. One blot remained between them. He wondered if he remembered. How lost was it under the many successes and victories? How bleached had it become under the steps to the top?

He gave a private smile at a sudden thought. Or was it? It seemed Cabanela was as efficient as ever—to tie up two old cases at once. Well done, old friend.


End file.
